


Twentieth Century Boy

by rainbowdracula



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Courtship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter was never too interested in mating and courtship, but the ever so polite Matt Murdock may change his mind.</p><p>Matt, meanwhile, knew Peter was Spider-Man immediately, and it made him want Peter even more. Only problem was trying to explain how he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twentieth Century Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission piece for infinity77. If you'd like to support me, [please check out my commissions here.](https://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/post/121606093217/writing-commissions)
> 
> [I also have original works.](https://amzn.com/B01HYXHPGM)
> 
> Title from a T. Rex song.

Every superhero in New York avoided the Kitchen like the plague.

Territories may be a thing of the past according to the law, but Daredevil seemed to give negative shits about that. He was an alpha with pheromones like freight trains, and he had so thoroughly marked out Hell's Kitchen to the point only the Punisher entered and exited freely. The Avengers – the _Avengers_ – asked permission. Daredevil might've pissed around the perimeter, honestly. Like most, Spider-Man didn't like swinging through there if he could help it, the mix of pheromones and mild fear (of both Daredevil and maybe Punisher, depending on the day) making it a distinctly unfun route.

But there was construction up and down Manhattan, making Hell's Kitchen the only viable path through the island. Peter figured if he made it fast, no long stops, Daredevil probably wouldn't care too much, especially since he was a fairly inoffensive omega and not another alpha invading his space—

Peter swung through the Kitchen, landing on the roof to catch his breath for a moment and plan his next move. He was barely there for a minute when footsteps landed, heavy and loud, behind him. Peter cursed.

" _Hey,_ Daredevil," Peter said, turning to see the Devil of Hell's Kitchen just standing and _staring_ at him. "Just passing through, be out of your hair in a minute."

"Spider-Man," Daredevil _growled._ His smell was damn rude, Peter thought, like the man was in permanent rut. "Did you see an SUV go into the building across from here?"

Peter blinked, rather shocked at the polite inquiry, and looked at the building across the street. Sure enough, a black SUV pulled up to it, a garage door opening and letting it inside. Spider-Man looked back at Daredevil and said, "Yeah, it just entered it actually. Something the matter?"

"Drug dealers," Daredevil said with absolute venom. "Pouring some kind of tainted product into the streets...people are ODing off of it, and I'd rather it be gone."

"Do you want some help?"

Peter's mouth once again acted without his brain's agreement, and Daredevil was silent for a long, awkward moment. He wasn't looking at Peter, but it was obvious his full attention was on Peter.

"Fine," he said. "Just follow my lead. They are packing serious firepower. They can't be alerted all at once."

"I'm not a delicate flower," Peter said with an eye roll, making his way to the edge of the roof. "I've dealt with drug dealers before."

"Most vigilantes have," Daredevil said evenly. "I just think this is a front for a bigger operation."

"Bigger than a drug ring?" Peter asked, surprised.

"Nothing is straightforward here," Daredevil said darkly. "Come on, before they leave."

They entered through the roof, the building dark and murky. Even with his improved night vision, Peter had to step carefully while Daredevil moved through the dirty and cluttered space with the same proud stride he always had. Peter had to jog lightly to keep up with him. Maybe it was an alpha thing, not letting weaknesses like not having the vision of a cat show.

They came to a stairwell, the dealers just past it, and Daredevil gestured to bring it in to formulate a plan on the landing.

"I can climb up to the ceiling and surprise them," Peter suggested. "Maybe take out the light, then you can swoop in and we start taking care of business?"

Daredevil tilted his head, considering, and added, "Your webbing can disable a gun, correct? Try to eliminate as many as possible. And take out the light, if you can see in the dark."

Okay, how that last sentence was worded definitely added evidence for Peter's 'Daredevil is a Vampire' theory, but Peter began his crawl up the wall and to the ceiling above the drug dealers' little pow-wow.

And okay, that was a lot of drugs. Like crates on pallets amounts of drugs. And everyone had a double-barrel shotgun at the minimum. Daredevil was not, in fact, messing around. Peter crawled up to the light, no one bothering to look up, and broke it, plunging the room into chaotic darkness. He then shot webbing at as many guns he could reach from his ceiling perch before Daredevil came bursting into the room.

Daredevil was almost as flippy and acrobatic as Peter, but he had a weight class on him and his kicks landed with crunches and fractures. Peter jumped down on, crushing a guy to the ground, and joined in the fray, dodging through Daredevil's path of destruction. Confused, scattered, and disarmed, it was easy to take them down to the floor and make them stay there.

The dealers safely unconscious and webbed-up, Daredevil stalked over to the crates of drugs and picked up one tightly wrapped package. He ripped it open and sniffed the contents, mouth a hard line.

"Tainted," he said, throwing the package back into the crates. He then took a deep breath and turned to Peter. "Thank you, for your help."

"No problem, dude," Peter said with a shrug. "Glad I could help."

Actually, Peter was glad he could help — the drug thing seemed deadly serious, and it seemed Daredevil's growly, smelly act was something he actually did with everyone, no matter their status. It was kind of refreshing, in a way, to know Daredevil was always going to be a bit of an asshole even if Peter wasn't an omega.

"Are you going to call the cops?" Peter asked. He knew that the Hell's Kitchen police force had been ripped apart and stitched back together after the Fisk thing. Daredevil stalked over to one of the dealers, foot nudging his shoulder in an ominous manner.

"Not for a while," Daredevil said, deceptively casual. "I can take it from here."

Watching Daredevil interrogate/torture a guy for information? Not high on the list of things Peter ever wants to see, ever. He moved towards the stairs, ready to high-tail it out of there.

"Okay, well, you have fun with that," Peter said, halfway to bolting. "Call me if you need anything."

Daredevil made a considering noise, and Peter bolted off into the night before the yelling started. Maybe Daredevil wasn't a totally rude asshole, but he was definitely a totally _scary_ asshole.

-

Morning came cool and drizzly, autumn settling its fiery weight on top the city, and Matt groaned when his alarm started singing to him the time.

He turned it off and let himself have a moment to lie in his bed, breathing in the familiar smell of his sheets and his apartment, the distant hum of the billboard and his neighbors going about their morning. Foggy and him had to be at Stark Tower (or Avengers' Tower, now, he supposed) for the final part of an open-and-shut personal injury case all sides felt very sorry about. It had been downright relaxing, in fact, since the company actually cared about its employees and they were mostly there to explain the difference between a payment schedule versus a lump sum payout. Quite different from defending clients from slumlords and dealing with battered, bitter gangsters.

Matt rolled on to his feet, stretching out his back and aching muscles before going to take a shower. He always had to shower in the mornings due to his pheromone production, otherwise he was just obnoxious — even with rut suppressants, neutral cologne and shampoo, and dampening body wash, Matt had quite the smell to him. Being near his apartment during rut was, apparently, quite the experience. Useful when he was Daredevil, unprofessional during his day job.

Showered and dressed, Matt made his way down his building's stairs to meet Foggy at the corner to begin the trek to the Tower. His mind was filled with pondering the tainted drugs, the babbled nonsense responses from the man he interrogated, and a little bit of Spider-Man showing up out of the blue. Like most costumed vigilantes he met, Matt memorized the essentials — the rhythm of his heart, how he walked, the scratch of his suit's materials, his smell. Omega, partially clamped by birth control and heat suppressants, and while Matt did enjoy that smell, he was mostly interested in how well Spider-Man could throw a punch.

(Quite well.)

Spider-Man didn't seem too keen on spending time with him beyond the punching part, anyway, not that Matt blamed him. Most are rather skittish around an alpha who straight-up maintained a territory (of a sort) like he did. Matt simply hoped that he had another tentative ally who was also not a mass murderer.

"Hey, Matt!" Foggy's bright voice cut through his thoughts. Matt smiled, making his way over to Foggy's side until they bumped together. Automatically, Matt gripped Foggy's elbow.

"Hello," Matt said. "Excited to see the inside of Stark Tower?"

"You know it," Foggy laughed. "Do you think we'll meet Captain America?"

"Probably not," Matt said. "We are unfortunately going to wallow in the company of Misses Vargas and Mister Wong while we sign paperwork."

Foggy gave a long sigh. "Have to deal with competent lawyers when I'd really rather be ogling the good captain. Such a shame."

"Don't we all," Matt deadpanned, and Foggy elbowed him. Matt laughed, and that dark little part of his soul was about to burst with the happiness that Foggy still loved him, still thought of him as his best friend, even after all the shit he pulled.

They got to Stark Tower (Avengers' Tower? Was the bottom still just Stark Industries while the top only was Avengers?) with plenty of time to spare, Misses Vargas and Mister Wong waiting for them with their client, June. June had an unfortunate incident regarding a lax safety code, resulting in a bad chemical burn, and Stark Industries was dead-set on fixing it. They all gathered for one last time in a conference room that had a "really nice view of the city, Matt, I'm pretty sure I can see the office from here" to go over the final settlement and make sure everyone left happy. June got coverage for her medical bills and insurance, as well as income lost, Stark Industries kept a great biochemist, and Nelson & Murdock got an easy paycheck.

Matt felt very good about himself when everyone stood up to shake hands, and June gushed that her mother had the absolute right idea, and he and Foggy exchanged complimentary back pats. They were all getting ready to leave and put the incident behind him when the door burst open to a chorus of shocked, "Mister Stark!"

"It's _Iron Man,_ " Foggy whispered to him with desperate urgency.

"No," Matt snarked back. "I thought it was Howard."

Foggy elbowed Matt once again.

"I heard some very stressful legal-y things were occurring in here," Stark declared, as melodramatic out of the suit as he was in it. "And I didn't want our friends..."

"Matthew Murdock," Matt said.

"And Foggy Nelson," Foggy followed, practiced. "Of Nelson and Murdock."

"Matt and Foggy to feel like Stark Industries abuses its employees," Stark finished. "Would you like a tour?"

"Would we?" Foggy said, eager and earnest and ignoring Matt's impressive scowl. "Come on, Matt, you sourpuss."

"Most tours are rather lost on me," Matt said, bitterly remembering the last time he had to listen to Stark's hurricane of puns and one-liners while punching robots. Foggy would never understand.

Stark, perhaps finally seeing the long white cane in Matt's hand, said, "I've been assured my style of speech is quite vivid and lush. Almost literary."

 _This is going to suck,_ Matt thought, and plastered on a smile, "Well, lead the way then, Mister Stark."

Foggy, at least, seemed enthralled by meeting a real-life Avenger and not the half-feral vigilantes that roamed about Hell's Kitchen (he, on occasion, left a beer on his window still for the Punisher, like Frank was a particularly angry tom cat.) Stark soaked up in the attention, bragging at length about his company and his engineering and Stark Phones and Stark Cars and Stark Everything. Matt contented himself with Foggy's happy little noises, so rare nowadays, and swallowed back the bitter feelings.

"And our brand sparkling new Biotechnology division!" Stark crooned, leading them into yet another room. "So new, you guys, we headhunted so many people from Oscorp."

Which was good, because Oscorp did things that made Landman and Zack blanch. Matt hoped they'd go bankrupt.

"And here's the man making it all happen, Doctor Connors," Stark said, and then the man who is supposedly Doctor Connors immediately babbled about genetic test results and grabbed someone else to place in the firing line. Someone familiar. Matt, who had honestly been zoning out, snapped to awareness. "Okay, we'll have to learn about the Biotechnology Division from Connors's favorite intern. So, Parker?"

Parker wasn't short, but not tall, based on the way he displaced the air, and he moved quickly and gracefully, heartbeat like an athlete's. He smelled like an omega on the usual suppressants and birth control, nothing strange, but something about him was familiar, tripping on the edge of Matt's tongue.

"Um, sure!" Parker said. "We're trying to develop unique, personalized therapies for disease based on your own genome. So instead of trying to make everyone fit into a handful of boxes, we can make everyone their own box."

 _Oh,_ Matt thought, listening to the bright stutter of Parker's voice. _I hadn't realized Spider-Man was that young._

"Tell them about the lizards, Peter!" someone yelled. Parker — _Peter —_ scuffed his shoe against the floor.

"Right," Peter said. "We're currently working on using the regeneration abilities of lizards to help grow back body parts. We've just managed cells, but soon we'll be able to grow back limbs, hearts, eyes..."

Peter's voice stuttered out at that, heartbeat increasing when he glanced at Matt and realized what he said. Matt smiled, calm and serene.

"I don't think I'd like have lizard eyes," Matt said softly. "Everyone had already accused me of becoming a reptile when I graduated law school."

The awkward moment passed, smoothed over by Matt's joke, and Stark clasped everyone on the shoulder.

"We hire the best and brightest here, you know," Stark said. "I didn't want your only experience to be marred by...really?"

Stark's phone rang, playing "American Woman," and he said, "Well, duty calls gentlemen...young Mister Parker, would you escort our guests out?"

"Sure, Mister Stark," Peter said. "Uh, follow me?"

Peter moved with the same grace and strength he did when he was in costume even though he tried to hide it with a slouch. Matt wondered if he was a mutant and trying to hide it, or perhaps some kind of experiment or accident...

"So I didn't get your names?" Peter asked.

"Foggy Nelson," Foggy said. "And this here is Matthew Murdock."

"We were helping settling a worker's comp claim," Matt explained. "And then Tony Stark burst into the room."

"He does that," Peter said sympathetically. "Um, where are you guys from?"

"Hell's Kitchen, New York," Foggy said. "Couple of born and bred New Yorkers. Matt here is even Irish Catholic."

Matt inclined his head with a sardonic smile. "And you?"

"Queens," Peter said. "Not quite as interesting."

"I'm sure it was," Matt assured. They were coming to the elevators, and Matt wondered if Peter was going to see them down to the lobby. "Where do you go to school, Peter?"

"NYU," Peter said. There was something proud in his voice. "Majoring in Biochemistry and Molecular Biology."

"Wow, Matt, we may have finally found a kid who sleeps less than you did in law school," Foggy said. Matt laughed. "We were Columbia. Matt here was _summa cum laude._ "

"You don't need to brag for me, Foggy," Matt said. "I'm sure Peter spends enough time with his fellow geniuses for the shine to wear off."

There was an uptick in Peter's heartbeat, and Matt was certain he was blushing. It was strange how normal this all was, Matt mused, like they were just two people who happen to meet.

"We're at the elevators," Foggy announced to Matt. "We've got to say goodbye to our new friend."

"It was nice meeting you guys," Peter said, honest.

"It was my pleasure," Matt assured. "We were quite impressed with Stark Industries."

"Though if you want to try a different internship, come by Nelson and Murdock," Foggy said slyly. "Our secretary is studying to become a paralegal and we need someone to make copies for us. We have a year until the apocalypse, man."

Peter laughed, a happy sound, and said, "We'll see if they're willing to pay for my doctorate, otherwise I'll take you up on your offer."

Foggy groaned. "We can't pay for a doctorate, Matt, we're screwed."

"We'll have to make our own copies," Matt sighed. "It's like our internships all over again."

Matt smiled brightly at Peter, who sucked in a breath.

"Until next time, Mister Parker," Matt said, as the elevator doors opened with a ding. Peter's eyes did not leave them until the doors closed again, leaving Foggy and Matt alone in the elevator.

"He was cute," Foggy said. "How did you know he was cute? How do you _always_ know?"

Matt was silent except for a smirk, hands tightening around his cane.

-

Daredevil's territorial marking wasn't as obvious down on the busy streets, and Peter didn't feel like he was intruding as he wove his way through the crowds. It was nice to be away from his little apartment and the usual NYU student haunts, slipping into the little coffee shop Mary Jane had recommended to him. It was dark and smelt like heaven, with pastries and perfectly roasted coffee beans, and it was with great enthusiasm he placed his order.

Peter turned to find a space amongst the exposed brickwork and plush seating, only to stop when he saw Matt sitting in the corner. His fingers skimmed across documents while the look on his face was contemplative. Peter's shoe squeaked against the floor, and Matt cocked his head, as if he had zeroed in on the quiet noise over all the others, and Peter had the slightly hysterical thought Matt knew he was there somehow. Which was absurd.

Matt was certainly handsome and charming when Tony Stark had dragged him into the lab, managing to not be a condescending asshole unlike most alphas Peter knew. Downright polite, in fact, and complimentary in a way that made Peter's heart flutter the tiniest bit. It wouldn't hurt to say hello, Peter reasoned, they got along at the Tower well enough. And his feet were moving to the corner Matt was holed up in, mouth opening up to say, "Hi, Matthew. It's me, Peter? From earlier this week?"

Matt simply tilted his head, not surprised at all by Peter's presence, and smiled. "Hello, Peter. Would you like to sit?"

Peter sat down slowly as Matt tidied away his documents. Matt rested his hands on the table, broad and strong with scarred knuckles, nicks and cuts all across the pale skin, and all his attention fixed on Peter.

"How have you been?" Peter asked, suddenly feeling like Matt could peer into his soul.

"Tired," Matt said, rough honesty in his voice. "I'd imagine it's the same for you."

"Yeah," Peter agreed, remembering crawling through his window last night, entire body aching like a bruise. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"What interested you in Biology?" Matt asked. "That's not something you stumble into."

"No," Peter agreed. "My dad...my dad was a scientist. He died when I was pretty young, I guess it was a way to feel connected to him."

"I understand that," Matt said. "My father died when I was young, too."

"Was he a lawyer?"

Matt laughed. "Oh, no. He was a boxer, actually. He wanted me to use my mind instead of my fists."

A waiter came with Peter's Americano in a large, ceramic cup the color of a tropical sea and a steaming chocolate croissant, white cream in a tiny silver pitcher. Peter poured it into his coffee, watching the white bloom against the black like clouds.

"Sounds like a good man," Peter said. Matt smiled, a little soft and a little distant.

"He taught me a lot," Matt agreed, and then changed the subject from something less sore. "Are you planning on studying?"

"Taking a break, actually," Peter said, taking the out. "You too?"

"It's a..." Matt paused, swallowing. "I have a difficult case. It's nice to not have to talk about it for a minute."

Matt _did_ look tired, Peter realized, underneath the veneer of serenity and alpha cockiness, like his shoulders were a terrible weight to bear. He was probably the kind of guy who took on everyone's pain as his own, internalizing it as his own fault.

"It's nice, taking a break," Peter agreed. And it may have been a tad hypocritical, but he tacked on, "Have you been sleeping well, Matt?"

"Nothing I'm not used to," Matt said, not in an "I'm a big manly alpha without emotions" way but in a "this is what I deserve and have come to expect" type of way. There was something soft and vulnerable about Matt, unlike any other alpha Peter had met. He never mentioned Peter's status, nor seemed to treat him differently beyond some mild flirting.

"Everyone needs a day off," Peter said. Even Spider-Man, half-awake on his couch while some stupid Netflix show played on a sleepy Saturday afternoon. "Even kickass lawyers."

Matt laughed softly, and then grew serious, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Would you..." he began, stopping like the words were sticky in his mouth"Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Peter blinked and flushed, stumbling out an embarrassed, "R-really?"

"Of course," Matt said. "I enjoy our conversations. I want to get to know you better."

It wasn't like Peter was hurting for attention. Twenty-five percent of the population were omegas, and of that twenty-five percent the majority were female. Peter was rare and valuable enough that, when he presented, all those bullies that once mocked him were falling over themselves for his favor. It was such fake crap, especially when those same former bullies got into the same Advanced Biology classes he did and declared that the subject matter was probably too much for poor little Peter, even after he smoked them all. His job and major had him surrounded by alphas, jockeying for both his attentions and to prove their superiority over him. Peter had grown amazingly disinterested with the biological rat-race.

And here was Matt, smiling gently with his hand palm up on the table. Peter's fingers skittered across the table to touch Matt's hand, tentative and shy.

"I'd like that," Peter said. "Where, though? Somewhere in the Kitchen?"

"There's a wonderful Italian place close to here," Matt said. "Wonderful flavors. I think you'll like it."

He then lifted up Peter's hand to kiss his knuckles, like Peter had been suddenly transported into a Regency era romance novel.

"This is the part where you reveal you are the Earl of the Davenport Estate, and the dark secret that turned you into a handsome, brooding man is that your sister was married off to a philanderer," Peter babbled. Matt laughed, deep and full-bodied, stroking his calloused hands over Peter's fingers.

"Fortunately for you, I am an only child," Matt said. "So no surprise sisters."

"Already sucking the magic out of things," Peter complained with a giggle. Matt had set their hands back down on the table, but hadn't let go of Peter's.

Peter squeezed Matt's hand. Matt had dimples when he grinned.

-

The restaurant was on the corner, with big plate glass windows that peered into the warm and cozy interior. Peter could smell it before he even turned down the block, and figured even if the date was a wash he'd get an amazing meal out of it. Peter had spent an uncomfortable amount of time getting ready, fretting in front of a mirror for someone that would only barely notice the effort, but he had received many a compliment for these skinny jeans and damned if he wasn't going to wear them.

He stepped into the restaurant, rich with the smells of garlic and onion and spices, the soft light casting warm light on the dark wood and rich red accents. The conversation was a gentle rumble, accented by Italian opera playing low, and there was an open window to the kitchen. Through it, Peter saw brilliant orange flame flared against white walls and stainless steel appliances.

"Table for one?" an older woman asked him, her plump face deep with smile lines. Peter startled from looking through the crowd.

"Actually, I'm meeting someone?" Peter replied. "His name's Matthew, is here yet? He's got reddish hair and a cane..."

"Oh, you're Mister Murdock's friend!" the woman gushed. "He's here already. Such a good man, Mister Murdock, he helped us when the building owners tried to raise our rent! Argued it went against our lease agreement..."

The hostess sung Matt's praises all the way to the corner, where Matt sat in relative privacy from the rest of the restaurant. His head moved as the hostess and Peter approached, like he had a secret Peter-sense. Maybe he smelt him, underneath the rich aroma of the restaurant around him.

"Your friend, Mister Murdock," the hostess gushed as Peter sat down across from Matt at the little table. Peter noted that the flowers at this table were fragrant heliotropes, opposed to the roses and lilies of the tables around them.

"Thank you, Sophia," Matt said kindly. "I keep telling you that you don't have to call me Mister Murdock. Matthew works just as well."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sophia said. "I'll give you two some time to order."

She bustled off, and Peter smiled at Matt. "Hey, I think I just met the president of your fan club."

"She'd have to fight with Foggy for that honor," Matt said. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Peter said honestly. "And really hungry."

"Fortunately, the portions here are huge," Matt said. "Maybe even enough for leftovers."

"You underestimate my abilities."

Matt laughed at that, which was another point in his favor. If he wasn't going to accept that Peter ate a ton of food per day this whole relationship wasn't going to work out.

"I..." Matt began, smile fading for a slight blush. "This doesn't have to mean anything, if you don't want it to. I just saw it and..."

"What is it?" Peter asked, Matt's nervousness infectious. Matt reached down and placed something on the table — a leather bound book, with _Origin of the Species_ in golden calligraphy on its front. Peter opened it, fingers going over the thick and rough pages as he traced the resplendent illustrations and diagrams. Beautifully bound and presented, it was a far cry from the battered copy underneath Peter's bed.

"It's beautiful," Peter declared, and Matt visibly relaxed. "I love it, Matt, you really shouldn't have."

"I came across it and thought of you," Matt confessed. Peter closed the book and hugged it close to his chest.

"This was a thoughtful gift," Peter assured. "Thank you for thinking about me."

The significance of Matt giving Peter the book and Peter accepting it was not lost on either — courting gifts meant this was a tad more serious than a date.

"I'm glad you like it," Matt said. He had a soft voice, gentle and warm like the restaurant. "I thought you'd appreciate it more than flowers."

"I do," Peter laughed. Sophia returned with their dishes — stuffed sausage and spinach ravioli for Peter, a truly amazing looking lasagna for Matt — and Peter immediately dug in. The noises he made were probably indecent, but he didn't care. "This is _perfect._ "

"They've been perfecting their recipes since the Fifties," Matt said. "I love places like this. They give neighborhoods life."

"Is that why you fought so hard to keep them here?" Peter asked. Matt nodded.

"I've been coming here since I was a kid," Matt said. "They're going to have to pry this place from my dead hands."

"Brilliant lawyer and valiant defender of the neighborhood," Peter teased. "Is there anything else I should know about you?"

Matt seemed to hesitate, poking at his food, before saying, "Well, you'll have to find out."

 _I swing from building to building and stop crime in a spider suit._ "Alright then, Mister Mysterious."

They were quiet while they enjoyed their meals and the atmosphere of the restaurant, and Peter kept sneaking glances up at Matt, who had a look of pure enjoyment on his face.

"Enjoying your meal?" Peter asked.

"Very much so," Matt said. "Flavor can be a little...hard, for me. It has to be just right or else it disagrees with me."

"Sensitive, or just picky?" Peter said, tilting his head in curiosity.

"After...after my accident, when I lost my sight," Matt said. "I developed a sensory processing disorder. Sounds, touch, taste...it all became too much to bear. I eventually learned to deal with it, but I still have some hypersensitivity to things."

"Like super senses," Peter said. "Your accident gave you super senses."

Matt gave a sardonic laugh. "That's one way to put it."

"How did you..." Peter said, unable to figure out how to articulate his question.

"It was an accident when I was nine," Matt said. "There was this truck that lost control and was about to hit this old man. I pushed him out of the way, but the chemicals in the truck splashed in my eyes. Zero light perception."

"Saved a man from getting hit by a car when you were nine, and now spend your days selflessly helping the people of the Kitchen," Peter said. "Quite the catch, Mister Murdock."

Matt turned his head away and reached up, pulling off his glasses. In the space of a moment, he looked shockingly vulnerable and young, unable to school the emotion on his face. He smiled, a little sad, and Peter kind of wanted to kiss his down-turned mouth.

"Thank you," Matt said. "That was generous of you."

"It's the truth," Peter said brightly. "You're a kind man. You don't know how many asshole alphas I have had to deal with."

"Everyone thought I was defective, unfit," Matt agreed. "I just thought all those dominance games were pointless. You're as much a unique person as I am, and I shouldn't try to fit you into a box that you'll never fit into."

 _You scored, Parker,_ Peter thought to himself. _Congratulations, don't fuck it up._

"Please tell everyone you know this," Peter said. "I can't believe how many classmates treat me like some delicate omega flower despite the fact I routinely beat...them all in tests."

_Okay, okay, hold back the vigilante talk for a bit. Gotta test the shit out of those waters._

"Their loss," Matt said with that devastating smile. Peter flushed red, pleased and exhilarated.

-

The city sprawled on the edge of Matt's consciousness, the dull roar of cars and the smell of trash and oil, millions of murmured voices and half-heard conversations down on the streets below Daredevil's feet. He moved like a wild tiger across the rooftops, pacing the edges of his territory and looking for threats. Matt felt restless and agitated, thoughts of Peter and the truth filling up his waking thoughts. They had spent months courting now, in sweet little gifts and Peter's gentle kisses on his brow, the scarred knuckles of his hands, and Matt dreamed of Peter's strong, lithe body underneath his hands, moving with grace and power. Matt wanted to tell him everything, to embrace him whole and honest, but he couldn't imagine how telling Peter he knew who he was from the beginning and didn't say a word about it would go over. Probably as well as telling Foggy he always knew when he was lying.

Daredevil shook his head, trying to clear it of wayward thoughts, and focus back on the city down below. It was a slow night, the rats all hiding in their holes after the Punisher's latest rampage, but Daredevil did not let his guard down for a moment. The night was churning on around him, something strange in the air, and he was ready to turn and meet it head on...

He heard the sound of webbing being shot out, catching on the side of the building and being pulled taunt by a heavy weight. Peter, _Spider-Man,_ was moving through the Kitchen, quick and limber, and Daredevil was drawn to the noise of the webbing, shadowing Spider-Man's movements across the buildings. He was moving towards Matt's apartment, Daredevil noted with a hint of panic, and raced to head him off.

Peter landed on a roof and Daredevil landed behind him, causing Spider-Man to turn around, startled. He immediately put his hands up in a gesture that made Matt's heart ache.

"Hey, man, sorry," Spider-Man began. His heart fluttered like it always did when Matt pressed his ear against Peter's chest. "Just passing through..."

"Construction again?" Daredevil asked, moving in a circle around Spider-Man. Peter stiffened, perhaps sensing the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's agitation.

"Yes," Spider-Man said, a little too quickly. "Usual New York traffic making me wish I had the Avengers' jet. You know how sweet that would be, having a jet? I'd never be late again..."

Matt found himself coming closer, lured by the familiar sweetness of Peter's voice, and Spider-Man took a step back, causing Daredevil to halt.

"I want you to know there will be no funny business on this roof," Spider-Man said firmly, deadly serious. "You can stink up Hell's Kitchen as much as you want, but I'm not going to be a part of it."

Daredevil stepped back, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm just..."

Spider-Man crossed his arms, suit rubbing against itself, stating with much pride, "Also I'm courting a lawyer around here. Maybe you've heard of him? Very upstanding citizen, very handsome."

Matt's mouth felt dry, the words forcing themselves out of his throat. "Is he?"

"He is!" Peter said, practically bouncing. "Quite the charmer. Can't see his own worth sometimes but I'm working on it—"

Something inside Matt cracked with a barely whispered, "Peter."

Peter stopped like a sentence that had encountered a period. "What? What did you say?"

"Peter," Matt said again. "I'm sorry."

He reached up and took off his mask, arms dropping back to his side. Peter's heart hammered against his chest, inhaling in shock, and Matt kept his head downcast.

"You knew," Peter said, accusing. "How did you _know?_ "

"Your heartbeat, how you smell, the way you move..." Matt said. "Everyone has a...signature, to them. When you can't see faces, you learn to rely on other things."

Peter stepped towards him, hesitantly. "You're really blind, then? You're blind and you can do all... _that?_ "

"The accident enhanced my senses to the point my sight was irrelevant," Matt said. "I didn't...I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how. I felt like I breeched your trust."

Peter was silent for a while, before his fingers brushed Matt's. Matt immediately tangled them together, a smile on his face.

"I got bit by a genetically engineered spider," Peter offered. "Then my uncle died and I..."

Peter stepped into Matt's arms, and Matt held him close, the night like velvet all around them.

"Everyone around me feels...I don't know, far away," Peter offered. "Like their problems and struggles are an entire continent away from mine. It's hard. I want to connect, but..."

"Not many people understand being a secret vigilante," Matt said. "It's not something normal people do. I'm under no delusions about that."

"It's probably the opposite of normal," Peter agreed. He nosed at Matt's stubble — Matt hadn't realized he had taken off his mask. "Is this why you have all those bruises? I thought you were just especially clumsy."

"You'd be surprised how little people push when you say you ran into the wall while looking defeated," Matt said. "Or imply you're into some seriously weird things."

Peter laughed. "Are you saying the alpha who wears leather and growls at people isn't into some weird things? You certainly marked up Hell's Kitchen like your personal sex dungeon."

Matt nipped at his ear. "That was unintentional. I produce strong pheromones, they throw other alphas off-kilter. The marking was a side-effect."

"Bet it makes you feel like a big strong alpha when you walk around the streets," Peter teased. Matt's heart soared with happiness that he still got to keep this Peter. "Look at that coffee shop, that shit's mine. The record store? Own that too. All of you are part of my pride and have to show me proper tribute."

"I must inform Foggy that he is now my second-in-command," Matt said. "We must organize the proper tournaments to appoint the alpha lieutenants. The crowns of flowers must be woven, sweetheart."

Peter laughed, loud and long, and said, "I will not sit quietly in a nest for you."

"I never expected you to," Matt replied, cradling Peter's face between his hands. "That would be like trying to put a wildfire under a wicker basket. I'm under no delusion that I can control you."

"Damn right," Peter said, and kissed Matt's nose. "I knew you were a good one, no matter what mask you were wearing."

Peter then kissed Matt's lips, and Matt wondered, a bit delirious, if there was a man happier than him standing underneath the cool night air, a live wire held in his arms.

-

The heat suppressants were a little package of pills, taking over the course of the first week of the month, and they stopped the hormone cocktail that caused heat from rising up in Peter's brain. They also dampened his pheromone production, though only the birth control pills (taken every day without fail) prevented pregnancy outright. Peter stood in his bathroom in boxers and a hoodie swiped from Matt's place, little package in hand, and thought about the future, sprawling out and out into months and years. He placed the package back inside his medicine cabinet, shutting it firmly, and wandered back into his living room/bedroom. The morning light poured in from the windows, and scattered across the floor were scientific papers, clinically discussing the best way to formulate an alpha-omega bond and how it differed from alpha-beta, omega-beta, and beta-beta bonds or the possible, rarer triangle bonds. Peter had gravitated to the articles that discussed all possibilities, from their evolutionary advantages to their societal impact, in that same cold manner — not better or worse, just fulfilling a different niche.

They all said the best place to bond, if the alpha-omega pair were not living together, was in the alpha's den where their smell was strongest. Alphas were frequently aggressive and territorial due to the massive increase in testosterone, and familiar haunts soothed that aggression. Plus, Matt had the nicer and bigger bed between the two of them, using all that fancy lawyer money and savings on electricity. Peter pulled his battered duffel bag from his closet, sorting through the clothes for the next four days even though he was going to be naked the whole time. It made him feel like the Uber driver wasn't going to judge him when he showed up smelling like pre-heat and desperation.

Time moved in a blur, and before Peter knew it, he was in front of Matt's apartment building. He imagined Matt stalking through his apartment, frantically fluffing up his bedding to make a suitable love nest for the next four days of sex, Peter's rising hormones invoking the rut response in him. In fact, when Peter knocked on his door, Matt wrenched it open immediately and tugged Peter inside, crushing him into a hug.

"Hi to you too, Matt," Peter laughed as Matt smelled his hair. The whole apartment reeked of Matt, like he had rubbed his face against every available surface, and now Matt had to make Peter smell like Matt too.

"Hello," Matt murmured. "You smell amazing. Can I lift you up?"

"And carry me off to ravish me in your den?" Peter finished, putting his bag on the bench beside the door and wrapping his arms around Matt's neck. "Go for it."

Matt lifted Peter up into a fireman's carry, and Peter laughed as he was thrown over Matt's shoulder like an absurd romance novel.

"Oh, Captain!" Peter cried. "Carry me back to your pirate ship and ravage me! I can't stand not touching your thick, hard... _muscles."_

"What do you _read_?" Matt asked accusingly, but his shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter.

Matt tossed Peter on to the bed, and Peter bounced a bit. He melted into the silk sheets, downy comforters, and plush pillows, rubbing his face against them. "I want you to know that I only like you for your bed."

"I knew it," Matt deadpanned, stripping out of his T-shirt. Even in the low light, his torso looked like it was carved from marble.

"Also for your muscles," Peter said, rolling around the bedding to get more of his smell on it. It mixed with Matt's overwhelming musk in a heady cocktail, making Peter dizzy and overwhelmed. Matt leaned over Peter, stripping off his shirt before pressing a kiss to his forehead, tracing the outline of Peter's face with his lips. He ended by catching Peter's mouth in a teasing kiss, much to Peter's frustration.

Peter raised his legs, locking them around Matt's waist and rolling them over so he was on top, deepening the kiss when Matt gave a delighted groan. Peter settled himself on Matt's pelvis, grinding down as the pheromones in the air and the hormones in his body started to get to him.

"You're so _hot,_ " Peter breathed when they pulled apart. "It's _unfair._ "

"You're gorgeous," Matt praised. "You smell divine."

He shoved his nose into Peter's neck, scenting him, and Peter moaned, curling around him. Matt's hands squeezed Peter's ass, and Peter felt himself growing slick.

"Why aren't we naked?" Peter asked. Matt laughed before reaching down to unbutton their pants.

Peter kicked off his jeans and practically tore off Matt's underwear before pouncing on him, rubbing himself against that ridiculous six-pack. Matt scratched his nails down Peter's back and grabbed at his strong thighs, urging him up. Peter made a confused noise.

"What...?" he panted. Matt gave him a filthy smile.

"I've got a great idea," Matt said, low and rumbling. "Sit on my face."

"Oh God," Peter groaned, and did. Matt's stubble rasped against Peter's inner thighs as his tongue flicked against Peter's entrance. Peter gasped, grinding himself down on Matt's tongue. "This was an _amazing_ idea."

Matt chuckled, which was an indescribable experience, and Peter gripped the headboard as Matt took him for a ride. Peter felt his heat coming on in crashing waves so intense his thighs were shaking under Matt's big hands. The bedside lamp casted warm shadows, swirling across their skin and creating colors that bled in Peter's vision as he tilted his head back, vision blurring and mind melting as heat overtook him.

"Please, Matt..." Peter gasped. "That feels _amazing..._ "

Matt's big hand reached up and gripped Peter's cock, stroking it as Peter ground down on his face. Peter cried out, shaking as Matt led him through his orgasm. Matt growled, entire body tensing and relaxing as he responded to Peter's pheromones, nails scouring into his legs as they mixed together like paint, pouring down the walls and floors until the whole place was simply _them,_ their nest, their den. Peter slid off Matt, laying down on his side so they could kiss again, and Matt pulled him close, arms tight around him. They couldn't stop touching each other, hands roaming and memorizing miles of skin and scar tissue, Peter's fingers tripping over the vicious one on Matt's torso.

"A ninja," Matt explained, voice rough, as Peter traced it. Peter snorted.

"Only you," Peter mumbled, and then bit into the skin of his shoulder. Words seemed rather irrelevant at that point. Matt's fingers slipped down and pushed inside Peter easily, sucking bruises into the skin of Peter's neck. Peter threw his leg over Matt's hip, spreading himself for him, and Matt opened him with three fingers.

Peter's mind was overheating, fingers scrambling against Matt's sweating skin as he moaned and whined for more. Matt was growling, a low rumble from deep in his throat, and probably hopped up on so much adrenaline and testosterone he'd rip the throat out of anyone stupid enough to stroll in. That thought should not have been so hot. Peter gasped, trying to roll on to his stomach in a very old and very instinctive gesture, but Matt kept him pressed up against him, marking up all the bare skin he could. He felt like liquid, seeping into the soft sheets boneless and trembling with only Matt to support him.

"Matt," Peter panted, words forced out of him. "Please, oh _please..._ "

Matt pulled his fingers out and Peter immediately rolled over on to his stomach, canting his ass up. Matt's hands gripped Peter's hips, dragging him so they were spooning back-to-front instead, and gripped one leg, pulling it over his own. He pushed his cock into Peter, and Peter screamed with the sensation, every nerve on fire and brain boiling. He fisted the sheets as Matt started to rock his hips, nosing at Peter's neck and shoulders as he scented him. He felt like an unyielding wall behind Peter, an anchor as they moved together.

Peter tilted his head back, desperately drawing Matt into a messy, wet kiss as Matt started to move his hips with greater force, and Matt was all teeth, nipping and tugging. Peter's entire body jolted with each thrust, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes from the sensation. He couldn't think beyond Matt inside him, surrounding him with his strong arms and thick musk, and Peter clung to his forearms, whining and sobbing. Matt was biting at his jaw and his neck, lavishing kisses and licks to his nape.

"Beautiful," Matt panted. "Mine."

"You too," Peter replied, reaching back to grip Matt's hair. " _Mine._ "

"Yours," Matt agreed, nuzzling his face. "Always, beautiful, _ah..._ "

He rolled them so he was on top of Peter, smothering them into the mattress, and Peter loved it, rolling his hips up to meet Matt's thrusts. The pillows and sheets reeked of them, probably requiring specialized descenting to not smell like a mating nest. Peter never wanted them to smell like anything else except them, the nest scent seeping into the apartment's walls and marking it out as _theirs,_ the sweet-smelling center of their territory, filling it up with their little babies...

The rambling train of his thoughts halted when Matt finally sunk his teeth into the nape of Peter's neck, forming the bonding mark. Peter's mind went white as he came, screaming, and forced himself as close to Matt, his _mate,_ as possible as he rode out the waves of pleasure while Matt kept snapping his hips forward. Finally, overwhelmed and dizzy, Peter blacked out.

When he came to, he and Matt were spooning underneath a thin sheet and Matt was lavishing attention to the bite on Peter's nape so it would scar. The act also released even more bonding chemicals in their brains, leaving Peter sleepy and content. Matt hadn't even pulled out yet.

"That feels amazing," Peter mumbled, and Matt kissed his way up to Peter's mouth, surprisingly chaste. Peter smiled into it, a little loopy.

"Love you," Matt murmured. "Thank you."

"Love you too," Peter replied, and felt his neck, sore from Matt's attentions. "I'm going to have such a bruised-up neck."

"Sorry," Matt mumbled. Peter laughed, and then thrust his hips down, causing Matt to groan.

"Don't be," Peter murmured, before the fever consumed them again. "I love it."

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr.](https://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Commission information.](https://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/post/121606093217/writing-commissions)
> 
> [Original work.](https://amzn.com/B01HYXHPGM) It's a Stucky BDSM fic I reskinned. Please check it out and help me with college expenses!


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